Veritable Menagerie
by Solain Rhyo
Summary: What if the legend of the wizard that takes the hearts of young girls were completely true, but on a much darker level? Now within the wizard's castle, Sophie is learning that Howl is a fascinating man ... and a dangerous one.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: **__This chapter has been touched up, as I just today finished reading the novel version of HMC. I'm not sure which I liked better, but Howl is truly brought to life more (I personally think) in the book. So that said, I'll be mingling movie-verse and novel-verse Howls together. I've also altered the storyline as things make much more sense to me now. Hope you still enjoy!_

**.1.**

It was when she rounded the corner and found herself face to face with the eager, slightly mocking faces of the soldiers that Sophie knew she should have stayed home—locked her doors for the night and simply been content to spend the evening immersed in a book. Too late she realized how foolish she had been to traverse the late night streets—it was idiotic to think, she chastised herself in that moment, that in these times of war she would be able to peacefully roam the city as she was so used to doing in times past. And so, as first one soldier and then the other approached her, Sophie steeled her nerves and pasted a small, insincere smile on her face, hoping against hope that they would leave her alone.

"What have we got here?" The first soldier, a young man barely older than herself, clean shaven and lanky, asked his comrade with a wink that was meant to be discreet and wound up being anything but.

"A little mouse," the other replied; much older, with a thick mustache and eyes that gleamed in a manner Sophie found most alarming, he reached out to flick the brim of her straw hat. She backpedaled immediately, putting several feet between them. He smiled then, revealing a mouth full of chipped and uneven teeth. He chided jokingly, "Ah, don't be like that, love."

"She looks frightened," the younger one remarked, and then added as an afterthought,"She's prettier that way."

"If you please," Sophie said coolly, silently congratulating herself on the fact that her voice was even, "I need to get past you. I'm really in quite a hurry."

"Not anymore, you aren't," said the older man, and quite suddenly his expression became serious.

"Come inside, meet some of our friends," said the other, reaching for her abruptly. Sophie reeled back away from his touch, feeling his hot breath, redolent with alcohol, against her face.

"No, I—" She began to protest, but then the elder caught her by the arm and she cried out in wordlessly instead. "Hush!" he barked at her, but Sophie did not heed his order. Instead she pulled back frantically, succeeding in breaking his hold on her. He lunged for her again; she whirled around unsteadily in order to flee, and found herself facing instead another man that had come upon them all unnoticed. Now truly frightened, her eyes wide with dismay, Sophie became still; there was no way she could fend off three of them …

"Are you gentleman quite through harassing my lady?"

Sophie's breath left her in a quiet gasp as the newcomer spoke, his voice calm and mellifluous. Wondering if perhaps he had mistaken her for somebody else, or if he was in fact there to aid her, her attention was jerked back to the soldiers as the older one began to speak with no small amount of anger.

"_Your_ lady? Why is _your _lady wandering around down here by herself?"

"She fancied fresh air and a bit of excitement," the stranger replied, and taking one step to close the difference between himself and Sophie he draped one arm languidly about her shawl-wrapped shoulders. "And now that she's found both, we'll be on our way. Excuse us, gentlemen."

The younger soldier shrugged and stepped aside, the elder glowering as he did the same a moment later. Propelled forward by the stranger's arm about her, Sophie didn't dare breathe a sigh of relief until she knew exactly whether this newcomer meant her any harm. She tried to slip out from beneath his touch; his fingers tightened about her shoulder as he murmured in her ear, "Not yet. Wait until we're out of sight."

Sophie, at an utter loss and bewildered, nodded her resigned understanding.

A few minutes later, having rounded a corner, the stranger let fall his arm, and Sophie turned to see him clearly for the first time since his … _rescue_. Bathed in the dirty wash of light from the overhead street lantern, he stood absolutely still with a small smile curving his lips, letting her know he was aware of her scrutiny. He was a tall man, leanly built, clad in finery that seemed at once outlandish but perfectly suited to him. His face was angular, small laugh lines obvious about the corners of his mouth. From beneath his thick mass of shoulder-length cornsilk hair she caught a glimpse of dangling blue stone earrings he that he wore in both ears. Partially obscured by the wayward tendrils of disobedient hair, his vibrant emerald eyes watched her with quiescent amusement.

"Are you satisfied with what you see?" He asked her after a moment, and his words held an intonation that made blood rush furiously to her face.

"I—" She said, and then stopped, completely flustered. "Thank you for helping me," she finished lamely.

"It was my pleasure," he replied, dipping effortlessly into a courtly bow that he made seem both sincere and vaguely mocking. Deciding she didn't like the way he confused her or the way she was almost certain he was toying with her, she scowled as he straightened, nodded her head perfunctorily and began to back away.

"Thank you again," she said politely, edging around him. "I am indebted to you for your kindness."

"Yes," he said, his smile having widened without her having noticed it. He pivoted on the spot to watch her progress, "you are."

She opened her mouth to ask him what he meant but thought immediately better of it. Instead, she began to ramble nervously, wanting nothing more than to be back in her own home, "I must be on my way, I'm afraid. It was nice to have met you."

"You don't even know my name," he said as she reached the open street they had just come from. "Aren't you at all curious?"

_Not at all_, she wanted to say, but instead she replied with false courtesy, "Of course I am."

"No, you're not." And there was no mistaking this time the undisguised mirth riding within his voice. Aghast that she had been so easy to read, Sophie paused in her tracks, watching him suspiciously. He began to move around her then, in a silent tread that seemed to her both inherently graceful and purposeful.

"You're afraid of me," he told her, circling so that it was now she that had to turn in order to keep facing him. "Which is understandable, of course, but completely unfounded. I mean you no harm; I thought that much had been obvious."

Sophie was unsure whether he was reprimanding her or not, so gentle was his tone. Wanting to flee from these streets and from this unusual man and feeling somewhat remorseful after his last words, Sophie heaved a silent albeit defeated sigh. "I'm sorry," she said finally, unwilling to make eye contact and therefore becoming firmly interested in the way the light reflected off of his polished ebony shoes. "You were only trying to help, and for that I am grateful. I was caught off-guard by your appearance."

"You were meant to be." The man replied cheerfully, and thrown off by this Sophie's eyes flicked to his face. "After all," he continued, smiling still, and Sophie was beginning to wonder if he were capable of any other expression, "I couldn't very well make a dashing rescue if you knew I were coming beforehand, could I?"

Sophie opened her mouth and immediately closed it, being at a complete loss for words. Taking advantage of her silence the stranger strode quickly forward, taking her by the shoulder and turning her. Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, he began to walk, and stunned Sophie had no choice but to go with him.

"R-really … I'll be quite alright. I can find my way back on my own, thank you." Perturbed by his nearness, by his aggressive yet charming manner, Sophie wanted nothing more than to take her leave from him; she was not accustomed to the attention of men, and even though this one had saved her from the others, she was no less disconcerted by his presence.

"You _could_," He said jovially, "But what kind of gentleman would I be to let a lovely woman such as yourself travel alone at night in such disreputable streets?"

_Lovely? _Sophie couldn't stop the strong blush creeping across her cheeks, and so she ducked her head, hoping the wide brim of her hat would hide it. She was many things, but she was not lovely, and she wondered if perhaps the man was being subtly cruel.

"Have I said something wrong?" He asked after a long minute of silence on Sophie's behalf.

"Not at all," she lied, keeping her eyes fastened on the simultaneous rising and falling of their feet.

"You are very poor at lying, you know, and besides, it's not becoming."

"I think," Sophie said very loudly, stopping in her tracks and tugging her hand free from his arm, "that you have taken me far enough, Sir. I can indeed find my way back from here, thank you."

"Nonsense!" Completely unperturbed by her rude and pointed outburst, he caught her hand in his own, firmly entwined his fingers with hers, and tucked it securely back beneath the bend of his other arm. Sophie knew her face was now blazing with color; it was unseemly to hold hands with a man she hardly knew! She began to speak heatedly, embarrassed, but he cut her smoothly off with a soft _tsking_ noise.

"You need to learn to relax, Sophie. I won't bite, and as long as I'm with you nothing else will either."

"H-how … how did you know my name?"

"From your hat," he was all he said as they resumed their walking, which was more a case of he leading and she following numbly after. As she tilted her head to stare at him blankly from under the brim of said hat, he chuckled. "I recognize master workmanship when I see it, my dear. There's only one hat shop in this district of the city, and it belongs to your family, does it not?"

"I … yes." But how did he know she hadn't just bought her hat there? She wanted to ask but didn't; it was better, she decided, not to know anything more about this strange, strange man than she absolutely had to.

They strolled then in silence, one that would be almost amiable if not for the fact that Sophie found this man's erratic behaviour both vaguely exhilarating and exceedingly disconcerting. He didn't remove his hand from hers; from time to time his fingers would flex against her skin, softly rubbing, inciting unbidden tremors to make their way up and down Sophie's spine. He led her with an unerring sense of direction through the night streets, managing, she noticed dazedly, to avoid people of any sort. When finally they stood beneath the carved wooden sign of the hat shop, Sophie's knees were weak and she felt decidedly light headed.

"Thank you very much," she murmured, and when she quickly pulled away he made no move to stop her. Without another glance at him she climbed the three steps that led to the house section of the building and had placed her hand upon the doorknob when behind her, the man spoke.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Sophie."

She stopped turning the knob and half turned to face him with a last-ditch attempt at politeness, "Likewise. I didn't catch your name …"

Leaving her question hanging, he said with a flutter of one hand, "I can tell who the good people are usually just by seeing them, but with you I wanted to be sure. I can say, without a doubt, that you have a good heart. Wouldn't you agree?"

And with a vague, charming, and very enigmatic smile, he turned on his heel and strode off into the dark. And Sophie, playing his last words over and over, recalling all the odd things about him, suddenly realized who this man indeed was.

_You have a good heart._

"Oh …" Sophie whispered, staring wide-eyed in the direction he had gone; her entire body trembled now with alarm and fear. All the legends told about the great wizard that roamed the Wastes in his walking castle came flooding back to her—how he traveled in search of hearts, the hearts from _young girls_, that he needed to sustain him …

Sophie had been rescued by none other than the wizard Howl.


	2. Chapter 2

**.2.**

Sophie slept very little that night, huddling beneath her blankets and replaying her encounter with the wizard over and over in her mind. There were such horrid stories about Howl; it was a common thing for parents to warn their disobedient children that great misbehavior would lure the wizard and he would eat their hearts. The stories grew more macabre when told by the older generations—because Howl had no heart of his own, he devoured that of any pretty, innocent young girl that caught his eye. A derivative of that particular tale spoke of how he first tortured the girls, using them for his dark amusement before receiving the sustenance offered him by the beating organ in their chest. And there were many, many others Sophie had heard, muttered among people whenever Howl's castle—a large, shambling monstrosity when seen, as it most often was, from afar—appeared somewhere beyond the city. Rumor and hearsay told of his charm, of his wit and of how they were simply a deceiving façade to hide his insidious true nature lying beneath. Sophie, recalling her encounter, thought to herself that he hadn't seemed all that bad, and immediately realized that was the reason he was rumored to be so dangerous.

_You have a good heart._

When sleep did finally find Sophie, it was a fitful slumber; broken images of the wizard haunted her, reaching for that which lay beating frantically beneath her skin. When the first light of morning crept through the cracks of her window shutters in an unwelcome intrusion, she met them bleary-eyed and miserably tired. With great reluctance she pulled herself from her bed and began to ready herself for the day ahead while studiously thinking of anything but the events from the night before. In a weary daze she set about opening the shop for business, and when the other girls that worked there arrived she greeted them with monosyllables before promptly situating herself in the backroom.

It was her unofficial workspace, a small corner room with two long work tables affixed to the walls and a single long-legged chair. The sole window looked out upon the highlands beyond the city; it was a sight that pleased Sophie, as she wished someday to be able to travel outside these urban confines that had surrounded her her entire life. This morning the vibrant green of the distant hills filled her with a sense of longing so strong that she momentarily pondered walking out of the hat shop, out of the city and out into the great unknown. Common sense prevailed seconds later, and with a heavy, disconsolate sigh she pulled out the chair and climbed up onto it.

Having distanced herself somewhat from the gossipy, idle chatter of her fellow coworkers that even on a good day irritated her to no end, Sophie set to work. She attacked the pile of hats on the table before her that were waiting to be adorned and decorated with a vengeance, barely focusing on the faux flowers, ribbons and other paraphernalia she was attaching to them. When it came to be time for lunch she pushed herself away from the table with another sigh and reached for her own hat resting atop a nearby mannequin head.

"_Ooooh!_ Look! It's Howl's castle!"

The excited squeal from one of the other girls, Dorothy, made Sophie's eyes flick immediately to the window. Howl's castle could indeed be seen; puffs of dark smoke rose from its many chimneys as it ambled insect-like across a distant hill.

"Maybe he's found another girl," said Anne, another worker, in a very wistful voice that brought a fierce scowl to Sophie's face. She glanced into the other room to find the five other girls all clustered around the window.

"Yes, and now he's taking her away, some place nice and quiet so he can eat her heart!"

They all erupted into laughter at this over-dramatic statement from Dorothy; Sophie's scowl became even more fierce. _Foolish, silly prats! _They had romanticized the very idea of the wizard and now idolized him as they did the rich noblemen that they glimpsed from day to day walking the city streets.

"I wonder if he's handsome?" This came from Olivia, a dreamy sigh following her words.

"Of course he is!" Anne exclaimed. All the stories say he is, and besides—why would girls follow him if he wasn't?"

"He bespells them," Cora chimed in with a sage nod of her head.

Sophie, scowl fading as she returned her gaze to the last of Howl's castle wandering out of sight, was inclined to agree with both girls; the wizard was, despite her reservations, undeniably handsome. She also didn't doubt that he wouldn't stoop to bewitching someone into doing his bidding.

"Whatever he does," Said Rachel, the quietest of the worker girls, "I wish he'd come and take _me _away."

A chorus of breathy sighs followed this statement, and Sophie's sour expression returned full force. Plunking her hat firmly on her head she left the workroom, striding past the tittering girls without a glance to spare them. She was almost to the front door when Dorothy's curious voice stopped her.

"Sophie? Where are you going?"

"For lunch," Sophie said, trying and failing to keep the curtness from her tone. After all, she really had no reason to be angry with the bunch; her lack of sleep had made her uncontrollably irritable.

There was a surprised silence at this, for Sophie never left the shop for lunch; she merely went upstairs into the house to make a meal for herself. Sophie quickly walked the rest of the way to the door and slipped through, fearing she would snap if asked any more questions. Once outside she breathed deep and began to walk, not really caring where she was going as long as it was away from the stifling confines of the shop. There were days—like this one—when she became deeply unsatisfied with her life; she had stayed to work in the hat shop at her stepmother Fanny's request after her father had passed away, thinking perhaps it would be only a temporary thing. Fanny had allowed Dorothy and Anne to continue work and had hired the other three girls, but every time Sophie attempted to broach the subject of her departure from the shop Fanny would plead for her to stay, if only for a little bit longer. And so Sophie would always acquiesce, and the weeks became months which in term became one year.

It had now been, to her count, one year, three months and twenty three days since her father had passed away; it was also one year, three months and twenty three days since she had done as Fanny had begged her to do and begun work in the hat shop. Her younger sisters, Martha and Lettie, had apprenticed with masters of different trades after their father's death. When she visited them—Martha at district herbalist's shop and Lettie at the bakery—she found that she was envious of them, for both loved what they were doing despite their earlier reservations. It wasn't fair, she often mused, that they were leading lives they wanted while she lived a life so tedious that oft-times she despaired of knowing of anything other than hats.

A sudden gust of wind tugged at Sophie's own hat as she rounded a corner, and she hastily caught it as it was ripped from her head. Keeping it in place with one hand she hurried to catch a trolley car across the street; it was mostly empty, and so she settled in one of the rear booth seats and immediately closed her eyes. She liked riding the trolley, because it both kept her out of the way of the crowds and made it possible for her to glimpse the city in its entirety in a short time. When the hour designated to her lunch had passed Sophie didn't move from her seat. Instead she remained in place as the trolley stopped repeatedly to both let people board and to let them off. She stared fixedly at the buildings around her, at the hustle and bustle that made the city what it was, at the constant state of motion everyone was in. And all the while, she could feel something unsettling, something restless growing within her core; she knew it for what it was—discontent. She wasn't happy among all the people, living in the house/shop surrounded by a hundred other houses and shops. She didn't like the streets always filled with people, and she didn't like the fact that no matter where she went, she was never really alone. All of these things had bothered her for a long time, but suddenly it felt as though she was at her breaking point. _It's the lack of sleep_, she told herself, and focused single-mindedly on the surroundings outside her trolley window.

The sun was just sinking below the horizon when she returned to the shop. She slept that night, a deep and uninterrupted slumber and when she woke in the morning she felt entirely normal again—except for the unrest which hadn't left her and had instead tightened into a hard little lump somewhere in her insides. _You're being ridiculous_, she thought to herself. _You live a good life here._

_A good life, yes, _said another part of her mind, _but is it the life you want?_

Pointedly choosing to ignore the two warring factions of her consciousness, she rose and set about preparing for yet another day. The girls arrived as they always did, and she greeted them with smiles and polite questions about their well being. She could see the relief on their faces; Sophie was such a creature of habit that her surprising excursion the previous day had actually worried them. Alone in her workroom, sewing a length of lavender ribbon to a hat with a ridiculously wide brim, she found her eyes constantly wandering to the window and the landscape beyond, searching for something she knew she shouldn't search for. She would at intervals get angry with herself, and force her attention back to whichever hat happened to be in her hands, and so it was the day passed.

It was also the way the next day passed, and the next, and the one after that. At the end of the week, Sophie had been focusing so hard on her work in an effort to avoid thinking about anything else that she hadn't noticed at all that the girls had left for the day and that she was now alone. Looking up and blinking from eyes red and tired, she set the current hat she was laboring over down, flexed her cramping fingers, and slowly slid off her chair. It was near sunset, she was surprised to see, and so she set about closing the shop, sweeping the floor and tidying the rows of finished hats on display. She opened the door and stepped outside to turn the sign hanging on the knob so that it read "Closed", noting with detached interest that the evening crowds—both the rich and the working class—were amassing in search of a place to meet and engage in debauchery in honor of the end of the week.

Sophie was in the process of closing the door when abruptly and rather unceremoniously a foot wedged itself between the door and the frame. Irritated, Sophie swung it open wide in order to administer a rebuke to the intruder, but the scathing words died abruptly on her lips.

"Good evening, dear Sophie," Howl said, ever-present smile in place, resplendent in a fine ensemble of blue and silver.

Sophie stared at him in horror. The infamous wizard hadn't, as she had rather fervently hoped, been a figment of her imagination or a hallucination; he was in fact real, and was currently preventing her from closing the door to the shop.

"I believe," he said lightly as Sophie, too frightened and incredulous to speak, stared at him in mute dismay, "The customary reply would be _"Good Evening" _or _"How are you this eve?"_"

Sophie blinked and said in a voice hardly above a whisper, "I know who you are. You're Howl."

"Wonderful!" He exclaimed cheerfully. "Now the introductions are complete and we are no longer strangers."

"Why—" Sophie began to ask in a panicked voice, but he smoothly interrupted her.

"Aren't you going to invite me inside?"

"No." She said flatly. He made a chiding noise, shaking his head; the dangling blue stone earrings he wore tinkled softly as he did so. In a sudden movement—too swift for Sophie to be sure what happened—he moved past her, the brush of his clothes against her skin making her step back with a gasp. He was then within her shop, within her haven, standing with his hands on his hips and surveying the interior.

"So many hats!" He said, moving to the shelf where the day's finished products were neatly displayed. "I can see you keep yourself busy."

_This, _Sophie decided incredulously, _is not happening. It can't be._

Turning back to face her, the wizard Howl said almost disapprovingly, "I daresay you're being rather quiet. Is something the matter?"

"Y-you," Sophie managed to utter. "You're—you're _Howl_. Why are you here? What do you want?" As she spoke, she began edging ever so carefully towards the still open door. Getting away, far away, from this … _wizard_ … was the only thing she could even think of doing. As she whirled suddenly and reached for the door it suddenly slammed shut, and she was left staring at it, stunned.

"I would appreciate it, Sophie, if you would at least remain here until I've told you why I've come."

Sophie, ignoring him desperately, gripped the doorknob and turned it frantically; no matter how hard she pulled it would not move.

"It won't open, I'm afraid, until we're through here."

"We have nothing to discuss!" Sophie said wildly, swinging back around to face him. "Please get out of my house!"

Instead of complying, the wizard settled himself comfortably on a work stool which, of its own volition, had slid smoothly out from under the cutting table and over to him. "We have business," he told her quietly, smile gone; Sophie found its absence quite unsettling.

"What business could you possibly have with me?" She asked despairingly, but in response to her own question the words he'd spoken the night she'd first met him echoed ominously through her mind.

_You have a good heart._

"There is still," Howl told her, plucking at the hanging, scalloped edge of his silver embroidered shirt sleeve, "the matter of the debt you owe me."

Sophie opened her mouth to issue a vehement denial, but stopped. She _had_ said she was in his debt, but it had only been a formality, a thing to say to express her gratitude for the sake of being polite. He couldn't possibly be taking it seriously …?

"I – I didn't mean—" she stammered as it suddenly dawned on her the seriousness of the situation she was now in.

"No, I imagine you didn't," the wizard replied, lips curving slightly as his smile reappeared. "Unfortunately, among wizards and witches and warlocks and all other manners of magical folk, debts are something taken very seriously."

"But you can't expect me to … you can't just think I'll …"

Howl huffed a sigh that was very theatrically sympathetic and thus not at all believable. "Unfortunately, my dear, it's not a matter of what you'd like to do. I'm afraid, by saying you were in my debt, you actually _were_ placed in my debt. It's a funny sort of bylaw with magic and such called the Favor. And I'm afraid it's binding, both legally and magically."

"I've never heard of such a thing," Sophie said faintly.

"I thought not, which is why I brought this." With a puff of smoke a large, leather bound tome appeared on the counter where purchases were made and money was exchanged. Sophie, despite herself, drew nearer to it. "If you'll look on page four hundred and thirty-six, you'll find that under the contractual legislation between the magical community and kingdom that any debt owed a wizard, witch, warlock, etc must be fulfilled."

Sophie gasped as the book flew open, dust flying everywhere as it did so; the pages began to swiftly flip before falling still. Sophie peered at the current page, found a large paragraph underlined all in red, and began to read:

_**Subsection 17**_

_Any citizen of the land who advertently or inadvertently, vocally or by written statement renders themselves as owing a debt to any of the kingdom's registered members of the magical society shall, subject to any right of appeal given by this Act, carry out the terms and conditions set by that registered member of the magical society._

_Subject to Section 38, if a citizen fails to comply with the terms and conditions set by the registered member of the magical society, (which shall be known forthwith as the Favor) that citizen is then regarded to be in contempt of the law, and as such subject to all relative criminal charges as specified under Section 39._

Sophie would have read more had not the pages begun to flip again; startled, she looked to Howl, who was making them turn simply by fluttering his hand about in the air. When they fell still again he indicated she was to read further, and so she did with a steadily increasing sensation of unrest.

_**Subsection 21**_

_A citizen is only required to be subject to the terms and conditions of the Favor until __**a)**__ the registered member of the magical society deems it fulfilled __**b)**__ the period of one lunar month has passed or __**c)**__ the citizen experiences an untimely death._

"You see?" Howl asked, and with a flick of his wrist the book snapped shut, prompting more dust to explode into the air and invade Sophie's nostrils and mouth. Howl politely waited until her fit of coughing and sneezing subsided before speaking again. "I'm afraid your debt still stands."

"What— " One final sneeze interrupted her question, and after it had passed she continued in a watery voice, "What about an appeal? It said something about an appeal."

"Oh yes. That." He made another vague motion with his hand and the book abruptly vanished, leaving behind it another large cloud of dust. Sophie, standing safely beyond its clutches, waited for the wizard to continue. When he did, he shook his head. "There's rather a lot of politics involved with an appeal, as first you must submit a written appeal to the court advisors, and then if they deem it acceptable a spoken version of the appeal must be presented before the king, who then convenes with his advisors to deliberate whether or not you must be made to fulfill your Favor."

Sophie by now was feeling quite ill; the very thought of appearing before the king and speaking aloud before him was horrifying—more so, it seemed, than owing a Favor to the infamous wizard Howl. No matter how she looked at it, she was quite thoroughly mired in trouble; wishing she had just followed her instincts earlier in the week and walked right out of the city she asked him dejectedly, "What must I do to complete the debt?"

"Favor," the wizard corrected her, and suddenly he was smiling his blinding smile again. "I'm not asking for much, you know. As it so happens, I'm rather in need of some assistance in my castle—"

"In your _castle?"_ Sophie echoed in the utmost dismay.

Looking slightly put off by the interruption, Howl continued, "Yes. In my castle. You see, I am so terribly busy and my assistant Markl is … well, he's assisting me, so naturally he's terribly busy too. I'm afraid our living quarters are rather in need of looking after."

"You want me," Sophie said, and just like that her unease was converted to anger and indignation, "to be your _maid?_"

"No, no, nothing like that at all!" He replied hastily; Sophie almost swore his smile became even brighter. "Think of it more like … more like being an assistant. An assistant that assists with maintaining the household."

It took a long moment for Sophie to respond; all she could think was of how nice it would be to strike this man over the head with something both heavy and sharp. Twice she opened her mouth to refuse, but she recalled what she'd read in the book, and she had no desire to be branded a criminal. Finally, resignedly, she made a sound of disgust.

"Why would they make a law like that anyways?" She demanded.

"To limit the exploitation of wizarding folk."

Sophie scowled, wondering how on earth _anyone_ could exploit a person like Howl. He stood then, and the stool he'd been seated on slid back to its original spot. "Well then," he said cheerily, "Shall we be off?"

"_Now?"_

"Is there a better time?"

"Never, if I could help it." Sophie muttered, but the frown Howl leveled in her direction let her know he'd heard. She continued quickly, "I can't just leave now! What about the shop?"

"There are, I believe, five other girls working here."

"And my stepmother, I have to tell—"

"I will personally send her a letter."

"And my sisters! They'll be worri—"

"I'll send them a letter too."

Out of excuses, Sophie glared at the wizard. He glared back, his smile having died at some point. Exasperated, infuriated, and overly suspicious Sophie asked in a very soft voice, "You meant to save me from those soldiers didn't you?"

She almost missed it—something dark, something secretive sliding behind the luminous green of the wizard's eyes. In a flash he was smiling again, his gaze empty of everything but amusement, but Sophie knew what she had seen. "Don't be ridiculous!" He exclaimed with a hearty laugh. "I was merely wandering the streets when I saw a pretty young lady being accosted by drunken soldiers. I did what every good gentleman would do."

She blushed at his compliment, which she was sure was insincere. Was he lying about finding her that night? She had no way of knowing, but unbidden came his words again, echoing eerily from the past—_You have a good heart._

"We'd best be off," Howl said, approaching her. "The sun has set."

Sophie watched him come with wide eyes, afraid of him again. When she shied back from the hand he reached out towards her he said in a gently chiding tone, "Sophie. Please. I won't hurt you."

She was not reassured, but when his hand moved towards hers she stood absolutely stock still. Clasping tightly her fingers in his own, he flashed her a rakish grin and said, "Hold on tightly, my dear. This could be a wild ride."

And with that, the world as Sophie knew it vanished.

**xXx**

_**Author's Note: **__I've now read the novel, and because I love both movie and book this fic is henceforth to be a fanfiction mixture of both. I decided to keep the name Markl instead of Michael (as it is in the novel) because I like it better. As well, in the novel Sophie has two sisters, so I'm using that fact. _


	3. Chapter 3

**.X.**

Sophie had no idea what was happening. One minute she was corporeal and the next she wasn't. She had the oddest sensation—it was almost as if she were wind, blowing through smoke and tearing it, wisp by wisp, apart. This was replaced by an altogether unpleasant feeling, as though she were being spun around and around and around again. Just when she feared she would become ill everything came to a shuddering halt, and she reeled from the suddenness of it. Something kept her from falling, and after a moment of utter confusion she realized that Howl had maintained his firm grip on her hand. She pulled away and a wave of vertigo struck; she closed her eyes tightly and fought very hard to subdue the nausea that had risen even as hands on her arm and back guided her forwards.

"Sit, Sophie." Howl's voice came to her as though from a long distance away. She opened her eyes to find that she was standing in front of a wooden chair. Gratefully and with the wizard's assistance she sank down into it, resting her head in her hands once she was seated as though to control the dizziness that was now assailing her. She concentrated on taking deep, even breaths and tried to ignore the facts that she was no longer home and that she had been magically transported by the most infamous wizard in the land to his residence—the moving castle of which so many tales were told. Panic flickered to life somewhere deep inside of her, but she tamped it down and focused simply on feeling better.

Howl was speaking as though to somebody else, and she caught the last of his sentence, "—becoming harder to do."

A voice answered his, unfamiliar and male, "You won't be able to do it for much longer. If it's as painful as she makes it seem, it's going to be too dangerous soon."

"I know," Howl sighed, and would have said more if Sophie hadn't chosen that moment to lift her head and open her eyes. Her first thought was that the great wizard must be destitute; surely there was no other reason to account for the horrendous state of her surroundings. The floor and walls, both wooden, were covered in layers of dust and grime so thick it made her skin crawl. What was presumably a kitchen table was situated in front of a massive stone hearth; she was surprised the table hadn't buckled under the weight of the large piles of books stacked haphazardly atop it. Other pieces of furniture were strewn haphazardly throughout the rest of the room, looking as though they'd appeared there more by chance than actually having been arranged. There was only one window in the chamber, but the fading sunlight that filtered through the dirt-encrusted pane of glass did a remarkable job of illuminating the interior. Finally, reluctantly, Sophie's eyes made their way to her new "employer", where he was sitting on the lip of the wide hearth.

"Feel better?" He asked, and she couldn't be sure whether the sympathy in his tone was real or not. He seemed to be alone; besides themselves Sophie could had seen no other people in the room. Who then had he been talking to? He was watching her with one eyebrow raised, awaiting an answer, and so she nodded. "A little, yes."

"Good. I apologize; I didn't realize just how rough our travel would be for you."

"For you, too," said the same voice she had heard before, emanating from the right of the wizard. Sophie's gaze followed the direction of the voice and found only fire blazing in amidst a pile of wood in the center of the hearth; it was only a heartbeat later she realized the fire was staring back at her. She was on her feet without realizing she'd moved, and wide-eyed she looked to the wizard. "W-what …?"

"Sophie," Howl said cheerfully as though nothing were out of the ordinary, "I'd like you to meet our resident fire demon, Calcifer."

"Hi, how are you?" the fire said, words issuing forth from a black void that opened and closed from among the flames that was presumably its mouth.

Sophie opened her own mouth, closed it, and opened it again enough to say faintly, "Fine, thank you."

"Ooh, she has manners, which is more than I can say about the last one you brought around—" The fire's sentence was abruptly cut off as the wizard quickly added another stick to the pile of wood it blazed around. Its eyes—very much like human eyes—glared balefully at the wizard as he stood and moved to the table.

"Calcifer is the sole source of power for this castle. He is the one that keeps it moving, and he also keeps it warm and heats the water we use."

"Heat _your_ bathwater, you mean," the fire demon said, having managed to move the wood Howl had added away from its mouth. "Which takes almost as much energy as keeping this place going. I swear you have a fetish with being clean."

"My assistant, Markl, is currently out." Howl continued smoothly, pointedly ignoring Calcifer's remark. "I'll introduce you to him later. Come here, Sophie."

He beckoned her to follow him with one crooked finger, and hesitantly she complied. Her dizziness had fled, perhaps in the wake of her astonishment and uncertainty. When she reached him he took her by the arm and led her to the staircase in the farthest corner of the room. He began to climb them, pausing on the landing to glance down at her where she stood, unmoving and staring up at him with the utmost trepidation. "Sophie? Is something the matter?"

_Yes!_ –she wanted to scream. _ Everything_ was the matter—she was here, in a castle that didn't look like a castle; she had just conferred however briefly with _fire that spoke_; she was going to be living here for the duration of the terms of the Favor, in the company of the wizard Howl, who was, according to all the tales, a very wicked man …

"N-no," she finally mumbled, and lifting her skirt with one hand she climbed the stairs after him. He waited until she caught up to him before beginning up the next set, and when they had both reached the second floor he took her arm again and led her down the hall. He stopped before the first door on the left and indicated with a smile that she was to open it. Eyeing him warily, she turned the knob and pushed it open. Nothing jumped out at her and so she crossed the threshold curiously. It was a bedroom—a massive four-poster bed stood in one corner, its hangings made of some sort of sheer blue cloth. There was an armoire in the other corner, its double doors adorned with ornate mirrors. Two large windows were set in the wall between the bed and armoire, and upon further inspection she realized they were in fact doors made almost completely of glass. Beyond them she could see some manner of balcony, and beyond that the scenery was unmistakable—it was that of the Wastes. She jerked her attention back to the room, not wanting to dwell on how very far away from home she was. The walls were colored ivory, and they were bedecked with a myriad of tapestries and paintings. Small tables set in the corners held vases and other assortments of objects. When she was finished her initial observation, Sophie turned uncertainly to the wizard.

"It's your room." he told her in a tone that indicated he thought that much should have been obvious.

"I-I … you shouldn't have gone to so much trouble …" she said, thoroughly at a loss; never in her life had she imagined such surroundings for herself.

"Nonsense! Couldn't very well have you uncomfortable during your stay here." Howl moved past her and strode to stand before the armoire, striking a pose before the mirrors and flashing a brilliant smile at his reflection. "Really, Sophie, what did you expect? That I'd make you sleep in the broom closet?"

She didn't know what she'd expected. From the great wizard Howl, who took and ate the hearts of young girls in order to either remain young or increase his power or whatever reasons they gave him in the tales, she certainly hadn't expected such kindness. She began to feel guilty; aside from enforcing the Favor between them—which was, apparently according to law, his right—he'd done nothing at all to harm her.

Her inner debate had not gone unnoticed; Howl's smile had faded and he was watching her closely through the mirror. "You don't like it?" He asked.

"I do." She said, nodding. To forestall any further questions she asked hastily, "How is it that this room is so much cleaner than the rest of the house?"

"It hasn't had time to get dirty. It's only just been created." He winked at his reflection and turned, brushing past her and catching her arm as he did so, carrying them both out of the room. Once back in the hall he stopped and pointed to the other three doors in the hall. "That's Markl's room. The one next to it is the second floor bathroom, and the one at the end is my room." The door to his room was made of very dark wood, and there were an odd variety of symbols and strange words she could not decipher burned into its surface. He turned to Sophie, and his mood was suddenly very serious. "I will ask you not to enter my room for any reason unless I give you permission. Understood?"

Frightened more by this solemn Howl than she was of his charming, more affable self, Sophie nodded mutely. Instantly his demeanour altered, a mercurial shifting of expressions, until again his face was open and cheerful. He turned them both about and led the way once again down the stairs. Once they were on the first floor Howl released Sophie and swept one arm outwards in a grandiose gesture. "So now you've seen it all—tell me, my dear, what do you think of our humble abode?"

A multitude of answers flitted through Sophie's mind, but she realized that perhaps stating her true feelings wasn't such a wise thing to do when in the company of such a wizard. "Very nice," she said with a smile she hoped was convincing, and added as an afterthought, "and very dirty."

Howl laughed at that. "Indeed! So you agree that you're needed here?"

"Yes," she said, but then said with uncharacteristic fierceness, "But I am _not_ your maid."

It seemed as though her change in tone was something unexpected; she saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes. "So," he said after a moment of speculation, "the little mouse has her teeth."

She opened her mouth in indignation at the title, but he cut her off with the wave of a hand. "I'm afraid I must be going. The evening has only just begun and there is still much to do. If you'll excuse me, Sophie? Please just make yourself comfortable tonight; you can begin your duties in the morning. Calcifer, will you be sure to assist Sophie or answer any questions she may have?"

Though she couldn't be sure, it seemed to Sophie as if the fire demon nodded. Howl smiled, nodded at them both, and quickly descended the stairs in the corner of the room opposite the hearth to where a large door stood. There was a dial attached to the knob, the colors on the dial corresponding to a larger one hung above the door. Howl turned the knob and the dials flicked to black. He did not glance back as he left the house, and so it was that Sophie quite suddenly found herself alone in the renowned moving castle with a talking fire as her only companion. She looked around her hopelessly, feeling then very isolated. After a moment she ventured to ask the fire demon a question. "Where has he gone?"

Calcifer's flames moved and shifted; she had the vague impression he had shrugged. "Beats me. I hardly ever know." The wood he was burning around abruptly crackled, sending up a shower of sparks before collapsing slightly. The fire demon adjusted himself with offshoots of red and orange flame that looked a lot like arms and hands before asking, "Would you mind handing me another piece of wood?"

"Of course," Sophie said, propriety taking over. She moved to the hearth and picked up a slender log before handing it to Calcifer, who reached up and took it from her with limbs that flickered and danced. Once he'd positioned it to his liking, he spoke again. "I'm not supposed to do this …" and he trailed off with a sigh. Sophie waited with a puzzled frown for him to continue, and when he did, he spoke quickly, "Look—Sophie?—you should listen to me. Get out of here. Leave now—I'll help you open the door so you can go back home."

"Why …? The Favor—I owe it to Howl—"

Calcifer made a rude noise, cutting her off. "Forget about the Favor. Just go, get out of here—"

There came the sound of the door opening, and Sophie whirled around expecting to see Howl. Instead it was a young boy, body covered almost entirely by a green cloak, dark haired and dark eyed. As he climbed up the steps his eyes moved from Sophie to Calcifer and then back again. "Who are you?" He asked after a moment.

"Sophie," she said, thinking that this must be Howl's assistant.

"She's here," Calcifer said, and there was an undercurrent of something heavy, something grim, in his voice, "to fulfill the Favor she owes Howl."

"Oh." Said the boy, and there was a finality to that one word that not even Sophie could miss. After another moment he took off his cloak and hung it on a peg near the stairs. "My name is Markl. I'm Howl's assistant. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Sophie said a trifle numbly. The subtle exchange between Markl and Calcifer, while not vocal, was enough that she knew they hid something, and they hid something dark. And what Calcifer had said to her before Markl's arrival—suddenly she had the strongest urge to do as he had told her to do and run headlong from this strange house with its strange inhabitants. But where would she go? The hat shop and her house were no longer havens—Howl knew the location. And if she refused to fulfill the Favor she would be judged a criminal and would be thrown in prison. Her options on either side were not good, and she closed her eyes in sudden, overwhelming despair. She was firmly trapped, and there was no way out.

Markl was moving, rummaging through drawers and cupboards near the table and removing articles of food. Sophie turned back around to find the fire demon regarding her with serious eyes. She said one word, making it an earnest plea, "Calcifer?"

He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Sophie. I really am. It's too late now."

She stepped away from the hearth, hands fisted at her sides. Calcifer closed his eyes and appeared to become a normal fire. She stared at him a moment before turning to find that Markl had cleared enough space on the crowded table to set down a plate of cheese and another of bread. He glanced at her, asking, "Are you hungry?"

"No."

He shrugged, sliding down onto a wooden chair and slicing off a hunk of bread with a knife he had found in the midst of the clutter. She opened her mouth to ask him all the things she wanted to ask, but closed it again, knowing he wouldn't tell her. He was, after all, apprentice to the man that had brought her here. "I think I'll retire for the night," she said instead, heading for the staircase.

"Good night," Markl mumbled around a mouth full of bread.

Sophie almost ran up the stairs and to the room that had been designated as her own, opening the door and slamming it behind her. She leaned back against it and released a shuddering breath, willing her heart to cease its pounding. Something was wrong, and that instinctive knowledge had only been compounded by the cryptic words of both the apprentice and the fire demon. What could she do, though, but try to release herself from the bond she had unwittingly entered herself into by uttering a single, careless phrase?

It was a long time later that she moved to the bed and sank down upon it, thinking thoughts both grim and desperate.

**.X.**

_**Author's Note: **I'm sorry it took me so long to continue this; inspiration left but seems to have returned with the purchase of the movie yesterday. I'm opting to make Markl (Michael) older as he was in the book. I also, through use of the Art of HMC, tried to make the interior of the castle as near the movie as I could (with the exception of Sophie's room, which is entirely my own creation). _


	4. Chapter 4

**.X.**

Sophie didn't sleep at all that night, lying awake and fully dressed on the strange bed in the strange room, all the while staring at the ceiling. She should have brought a candle or lantern up so that she would have light, but she hadn't and was surprised when, as the evening wore on, the interior of the room still remained bright while outside the large window-doors the world darkened. It shouldn't have been a surprise, she knew—she was in a wizard's house now, after all. The house—or castle, rather—made all manners of bizarre noises during the course of the night. Several times she thought she heard doors opening and closing, and for a while she could hear Markl and Calcifer conferring on the floor below, their voices muffled and words inaudible. When she could hear them no more she assumed they'd both retired for the evening, and then wondered absently whether a fire demon needed sleep or not. This thought, along with a hundred others, roiled around and around in her mind as she lay unmoving, eyes tracing paths back and forth on the wooden ceiling. When finally the sky outside her windows began to lighten, she rolled into a sitting position with a sigh and gazed around the room with a feeling of heavy hopelessness.

It was a long while before she slid off the bed and made her way to the armoire in the corner. She had an instinctive feeling it would be full of clothing for her; after all, Howl had whisked her away without allowing her to gather any of her own belongings, but he'd gone out of his way—or so it seemed—to make her feel marginally at home. The creation of this room was indication enough of that. Easing one of the armoire doors open, she found her suspicions were correct; clothes were folded in neat, separate piles and hung from the short metal bar. Further inspection revealed that the wardrobe was none other than her very own, for picking up one dress she found it was one of her old favourites, with a small rip once mended along the upper arm. Had Howl magicked her entire, pitifully small wardrobe here? It seemed so, and against her will he went up a notch in her estimation. She fingered the fabric of the plain dress she held—one of many of the same she owned—before quickly setting about changing. Uncertain of what to do with the rumpled clothing from the day previous, she folded them neatly and set them on the floor beside the armoire before moving to the door. She took a deep breath before laying her hand upon it and opening it, and as silently as she could she stepped out into the hallway. Around her all was silent; the faint sound of snoring reached her ears from beyond the door that was Markl's. With a quick, quiet tread she made her way to the bathroom, opening and closing the door behind her as carefully as she could.

The inside was nice; a porcelain bathtub with four bronze clawed feet stood against the wall farthest from the door, the toilet not far from it. A shelf containing a myriad of multi-colored, differently sized bottles had been mounted over the tub, labelled with words she didn't understand. A full length mirror, gilded in silver, adorned the wall facing the sink, and another, smaller mirror was placed above the sink. Confused by the placement of the mirrors directly across from each other, she realized after a moment that they had been placed so so that one could see how they looked from the back. She had no doubt who had devised the setup, and a small smile at the excess of Howl's vanity tugged at her lips as she twisted the long brass faucets and set about freshening herself with the clear water that poured forth. There was a brush that looked identical to her own sitting on a shelf near the sink, so after she'd unbraided her hair she used it to comb through the thick waves of her hair. Once the long, chestnut length was again subdued in its plait she looked at her reflection critically. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, a testament to the fact she had not slept at all, and her coloring, usually a shade darker than what society deemed "fair", was somewhat pallid. Despite her best efforts, wisps of her hair had escaped her fingers and fell around her face. She looked tired and worried, which was, she mused wryly, exactly the case. Abruptly her expression sobered, and she scowled at herself in the mirror. She was no beauty, though there was something in the gentle lines of her face and the large, expressive surface of her eyes that could be called pretty. If she'd been lovely, she wondered seriously, would she still have wound up here, owing a Favor to a notorious wizard in his infamous home? Or would he have been so charmed by her appearance that he would have forgone the Favor, and merely settled for her heart? Her scowl grew ferocious, and quickly she moved away from the mirror and exited the bathroom.

She made her way downstairs with measured steps, careful to make as little noise as she could. She was relieved to find that the main room was devoid of anyone human; as she descended the last step she heard the soft crackle of flame and looked over to see Calcifer climbing up on a blackened log, blinking his eyes as though to clear them from the fog of sleep. She crossed the floor to the pile of wood at the side of the hearth and selected one before handing it to the fire demon with a quiet greeting. "Good morning, Calcifer."

"Sophie." His voice, she noted with a small degree of amusement, sounded exactly like that of someone who had just awoken from a deep sleep—raspy and hoarse. "Do you know how early it is?"

"I have an idea," she replied dryly, for after all, she had been awake to notice the sun rising.

"I don't think Howl or Markl have ever been awake this early," Calcifer said, adjusting the log she had just given him to a position more of his liking. Propping himself up on it, he continued, "In fact, Howl hardly ever rises much before noon."

"And Markl?" Sophie asked, looking around for a broom and spying one wedged in the corner between a bookshelf and the wall, covered entirely in thick, dusty spider webs. She grabbed what appeared to be a white linen handkerchief from the cluttered table and only glanced at the embroidered initials—"H" & "J" done in blue cursive script—before resolutely approaching the broom. She took a deep breath before reaching out to grab it, stifling a shudder as the cobwebs stuck to her skin. She had a distinct dislike of spiders, and so she swallowed hard as she swept them away from the broomstick with the handkerchief.

"Markl is up before Howl, most of the time. Though now that he has a young lady friend, he's been coming in later and sleeping in longer." Watching as she approached with the now web-free broom in hand, the fire demon remarked, "I don't think that broom has ever been used."

"That doesn't surprise me," Sophie said, and determinedly went to work.

She swept the entire length of the floor, wall to wall, brushing the great piles of dust and other, larger things down the stairs before turning the dial on the door to green as Calcifer directed and sweeping the entire mess out into what appeared to be the foggy expanse of the Wastes. With the floor now clear of its covering of dirt, it was revealed that it hadn't been washed for quite some time. When asked, Calcifer directed her to a small closet to the left of the hearth, where she discovered a mop and bucket. She used the large metal basin that passed as a kitchen sink to fill the bucket with hot water—which she'd asked for politely, and which Calcifer had acquiesced to make with a sigh so melodramatic it rivalled those of Howl's—and thus began a thorough cleaning of the first floor. It was easy to forget as she threw herself wholeheartedly into the work just why she was here, and just who she was here to work for. It was also easy to push the memory of just what Calcifer and Markl had said the night previous—as well as what they hadn't—and all the implications that arose from their words that seemed to her slightly insidious into the farthest corners of her mind.

She'd just finished mopping the last bit of the floor when a voice startled her out of her determined focus. "My, but we're energetic this morning."

Sophie straightened quickly, turning to find Howl standing before the hearth. He was dressed in clothing even more resplendent than those she'd seen him in before, an ensemble of dark green and a rich, earthy brown. Over his shoulders he wore a coat of heavy brocade consisting of the same two colors. The effect of the coat and clothing beneath was definitely eye-catching, and she knew without a doubt that he was more than aware of the effect.

Calcifer spoke first, eyeing Howl from head to, and when he spoke his words were an echo of the wizard's own. "My, but we're up early this morning."

Ignoring the sarcastic edge to the fire demon's tone, Howl said to Sophie brightly, "Things are looking better already. I can see your presence here is going to be a blessing."

"Is it?" Sophie asked sharply, and immediately regretted it. But Howl gave no indication he heard the ire in her tone, instead flicking a stray strand of his flaxen hair out of his eyes and speaking next to Calcifer.

"And as for you," the wizard said, "I'm up this early because I have important business to attend to."

"By business, you mean …?" Calcifer asked, and there was more than simple curiosity in the question.

"I mean just that. Business." Howl said, striding across the room to pick up a handsome acoustic guitar that was propped against the wall. With it in hand he moved to the table and begin searching through the mess atop it, muttering, "I know I put my handkerchief here the other day …" He made a triumphant noise, setting down the guitar and seizing a small square of fabric and holding it up before him. He stared at it for a long moment before saying, "I could have sworn this used to be white."

Sophie felt the blood rush to her face as the wizard turned about to look at her pointedly, the linen handkerchief held between his thumb and forefinger no longer white but dark with dust and the remnants of spider webs. Defensively, she said, "I needed something to clean off the broom."

"I see." Howl nodded. "And my fine linen handkerchief—which bears very clearly, I might add, my initials—was all that was available?"

"Yes." She said, and stubbornly met his gaze while squelching the urge to apologize. She'd used it on purpose because it had bore his initials, but she wasn't going to tell him that. She was almost certain he'd guessed as much.

"In the future," the wizard said, taking two edges of the handkerchief and pulling them tight, "I'll make sure there are an abundance of rags present for your use." He folded the square of linen with quick, deft fingers and then snapped it open again, and Sophie saw with astonishment that the linen was again pure white. He tucked it into an outer pocket of his jacket, picked up the guitar, and made his way to the door. As he descended the stairs, Calcifer asked, "Where are you going?"

Howl paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "I'll be gone for a day or two," he said, not bothering to answer the question. To Sophie he said with a sunny smile, "Don't work yourself too hard, my dear." And with that he stepped off the stairs, turned the dial on the door to black, and slipped through. When he was gone, Calcifer said in a disgusted voice, "Fool."

Sophie was inclined to agree with him, but instead picked up her bucket of dirty water and moved to the sink. When she'd finished rinsing it out and cleaning it, she set about searching for anything and everything that could be used for the making of breakfast. By the time she'd located a frying pan, a bent metal flipper and two forks, Markl had risen. He greeted both Sophie and Calcifer tiredly, inquired briefly about Howl, and then set about aiding in the search for utensils. When they'd found enough to use for a meal, Sophie approached the hearth with the frying pan in one hand and a basket of eggs in the other.

Calcifer glared at her as she approached and said with heavy warning, "Don't even think about it."

She had been thinking about it, but was also aware that Calcifer was more than likely to proud to be prodded into something as mundane as cooking. And so Sophie built another small fire on the hearth close to Calcifer and utilized it to cook breakfast for herself and Markl. As she cracked the eggs and looked about for a place to dispose of the shells, the fire demon made an eager noise, and so she tossed them in his direction. He crackled and rose up, catching them in the dark void of his mouth, and began to chew with noisy gusto. When the food was ready—four eggs and four slices of bacon that Markl had found somewhere—she turned to find that the assistant had managed to clear off more than half of the table and had made an attempt at setting it properly with the limited dishes and silverware available. As they sat down to their meal with Calcifer still eating loudly in the background, it struck Sophie that she was actually enjoying herself. The absence of Howl made her feel more at ease, but then the events of the previous night, the enigmatic yet urgent words of Calcifer, came rushing back to her. She swallowed a mouthful of bacon heavily, staring at Markl and suddenly burning with the urge to ask him what was in store for her. Markl, shovelling food into his mouth with an appalling lack of manners, stopped in mid-chew as he noticed Sophie's gaze upon him.

"What?" He asked around a mouth full of food.

Sophie shook her head. "Nothing," she said with a weak smile. "Just homesick."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Sophie shook her head again and resumed eating, although her appetite had abandoned her in the wake of her nervousness that had returned from the night before. At length she rose and carried her plate to the hearth, sweeping the remains of her meal off into Calcifer's waiting mouth. "Fahnks," the fire demon said, bits of food falling from his mouth as he spoke, and Sophie merely nodded before turning and taking her plate to the sink to be washed. When Markl had finished he offered to help, but Sophie declined, and the apprentice then opted to head out into to do some errands Howl had left for him. Sophie watched as he left with the door set on the red dial and caught a glimpse of clustered buildings before he closed it behind him.

"Where has he gone?" Sophie asked Calcifer, turning her attention again to the dishes in the sink.

"Porthaven."

Perhaps, Sophie mused, she was becoming accustomed to living in a wizard's house, because it didn't strike her as odd at all that Porthaven was many leagues from the Wastes, and even more from her home city of Market Chipping.

**.X.**

The rest of the day passed in the same manner the first part had; Sophie set to work scrubbing the walls of the first floor, and removing all cobwebs from the ceiling. It didn't surprise her that a veritable menagerie of insects and rodents scuttled away from her mop, rag and broom, and she threatened them with a dire fate if they decided to return. By the time she'd made dinner for herself and Markl, Sophie was utterly exhausted, and retired early in the evening. In her room she disrobed and donned one of her high-necked flannel nightgowns before crawling into the bed and collapsing against the pillow. She was asleep instantly, but her sleep was troubled by visages of Howl, and by broken phrases and sentences whose ominous meaning she couldn't decipher.

She slept late into the next morning, and when she rose she decided she wanted a bath; her body ached a bit from the force of her exertions the day previous. Peeking her head through the railing she asked if it would be alright; Markl nodded and Calcifer even offered to heat water for her, something she knew from conversation he hated to do for Howl. She thanked them both and made her way to the bathroom, where she indulged in an hour long soak. Once she was again clean and freshly clothed she headed downstairs where she partook of the small breakfast Markl had made before beginning her tasks again. Today she focused on the second floor, thoroughly cleaning the hallway. She was wise enough not to venture into Howl's room, and Markl asked with a hint of desperation is she could leave his room until he'd tidied it up a bit. That left only the bathroom, and so Sophie did her best to get it clean, heeding Markl's warning not touch any of the bottles or vials housed within. When finally the upstairs was as clean as she was able to get it she came back downstairs and with the assistant's aid began to get rid of the clutter that had spread itself from the table to the floor. By the time they'd put everything away and gotten things as organized as possible, it was time for dinner. Their repast that evening was cold fare; rich white bread and aged cheese accompanied by some red wine Markl had discovered in the midst of their reorganization of the main room. Markl left after assisting Sophie with the dishes, saying only he was going to meet a friend; a suggestive hint from Calcifer about it being a lady friend had the teenaged boy blushing furiously as he slipped quickly out the door.

Alone with only the fire demon, Sophie settled herself in a chair close to the hearth and began to mend some clothing she had found discarded in the corner of the bathroom. They were made of linen and other fine fabrics, and so she automatically assumed they belonged to Howl. As she sewed, she maintained a conversation with Calcifer, learning that the fire demon had a biting wit and sarcastic sense of humor that she quite enjoyed. Eventually he grew tired, withdrawing his flame and closing his eyes, and in the silence that followed Sophie lost herself in the rising and falling of her needle and the lines made through the fabric by her thread. So absorbed was she in her work that she didn't notice the presence at her side until she heard a voice.

"You've done a lot while I've been gone, Sophie."

Instantly her hands stilled, her head whipping around and her eyes flying upwards to find Howl standing at her side. Her discomfiture amused him; she saw it in the curve of his lips. His appearance had altered, she noted as she observed him—his thick cornsilk hair was longer than it had been before, the night he brought her to the castle. Where once it had fallen to brush his shoulders it now spilled over them and came to an end at the middle of his chest. He was dressed in the same green and brown outfit he'd been wearing the other morning, and his guitar was held in one hand. His eyes, partially obscured as usual beneath some of the shorter locks of his hair, were watching her watching him, and the glint in them was, she felt certain, mocking.

Suddenly indignant, angry at his entertainment at her expense, she squared her shoulders and said stiffly, "There was a lot to do."

"Indeed," the wizard remarked, leaning the guitar against the table and half turning with his hands placed on his hips to survey the interior of the castle's main room which had drastically changed in terms of cleanliness since Sophie arrival. "Consider me impressed."

There was nothing in his tone that she could detect other than respect, and Sophie's irritation softened somewhat. Howl turned back to her with a pleased smile. "If you keep up like this, you'll have fulfilled your Favor within another week."

His tone had been light, jesting, but Sophie replied with all seriousness, "That is what I am hoping for."

Something inexplicable altered in his expression, a slight tightening of his smile, a shadow that flickered for a fraction of a second in his eyes. Between one heartbeat and the next it seemed as though nothing had changed, however, and his expression was as cheery as ever.

"And Calcifer and Markl? Have they been behaving themselves?" He asked, his eyes moving to the hearth where only a small flame burned amidst a stack of wood. It seemed as though the fire demon was still in repose.

"They've been nothing but kind," Sophie said truthfully.

"Excellent," the wizard said. Looking back at Sophie he asked another question, "I assume Markl has gone out for the evening?"

Sophie nodded, and Howl continued with a deep, dramatic sigh. "I'm losing my apprentice to the charms of first love." A smile danced about his mouth as he peered down at Sophie, and it was a mischevious smile that made her instantly more nervous than she already was. "Have you ever been in love, Sophie?"

"I—no." Sophie said, and immediately wished she hadn't. She blushed and furiously began to mend the cloth bunched in her lap.

Howl chuckled, falling to a crouch beside her. "Careful now," he said, picking at the black and white sleeve of the shirt Sophie was currently fixing. "I'm rather fond of this suit."

"Is that why it was lying in the corner of the bathroom, covered in dust?"

"I'll have you know, I hadn't forgotten about it," Howl said with mock indignation. He cast an appraising eye over the stitches she had done so far. "So, you're as adept with a needle and thread as you are with a mop and bucket."

His words weren't meant to be cruel, but Sophie took offence anyways, shooting to her feet. She knew that as far as talents went she was lacking, but it still hurt to be referred to as some sort of housemaid. Carefully turning and lying the shirt on the table, she said stiffly and without looking at the wizard. "I think I'll be going to bed now."

"Sophie," he said as she stepped around him, but she didn't stop until he caught her by the upper arm. Staring at the floor, blinking back tears of mingled anger, despair and apprehension, she waited woodenly for what he would say next.

"I meant nothing unkind," he said. She nodded; she'd already known as much. Though she thought she'd had a better handle on it, she was so on edge from this … situation that her emotions were raw and very easily provoked. His hand fell away with the rustling of fabric. She felt his fingers again on her chin a moment later, gently turning her face towards him.

"I'm sorry," he said, and there was nothing light in his expression now. His eyes, with their perpetual intrinsic brightness, were solemn as well. He went on, "I got you a gift today, to show you my appreciation for cooperating on the issue of the Favor. Would you like to see it?"

She wanted only to escape this room, to escape his presence and go to the safety of her own quarters. But she nodded, because it was the polite thing to do, and watched as he removed something from an inner pocket of his coat. He held it up before her slowly; it was a necklace, a long gold chain adorned by a single teardrop pendant. The pendant, she saw upon closer examination, was a translucent blue stone that winked and glittered even in the dim light provided by Calcifer's small flames. It was simple yet lovely, and when she saw he was watching her expectantly she said honestly, "It's very nice, but why …?"

"I told you why." He said, undoing the clasp of the necklace and stepping behind her. She stiffened as his hands brushed aside her braid in order to refasten the clasp, and when the pendant rested securely against the hollow of her collarbone he came to stand before her with a satisfied smile.

"There!" He said. "It looks perfect. You do like it, don't you?"

Sophie fingered the teardrop stone, feeling the uninterrupted smoothness of it and despite herself admiring the way the stone sparkled. "Very much," she said softly, feeling both bewildered and flustered.

"That's my girl," Howl said in a quiet voice, and her eyes moved to his face. For an instant his smile faded, and she saw in the depths of his gaze something unrecognizable, something urgent that she couldn't comprehend. But like before his expression shifted with fluidic ease, and when he was smiling again he said, "You have my thanks for what you've done here, Sophie."

She nodded, suddenly eager to be free of his presence. Before she could say anything he stepped aside, out of her way, and inclined his head slightly. "I believe you were on your way to bed. Don't let me stop you, and sweet dreams."

"Thank you," she said, averting her eyes from his and hastily making her way to the stairs. She was halfway up them when she thought she heard Calcifer speak, say something sharp. But when she paused she heard only Howl humming some nameless tune, and so she continued on the way up to her room.

Once inside she closed the door and locked it for good measure, and then moved to her bed on numb legs. Howl terrified her, but he also intrigued her, and she hated the curiosity that arose when she was around him. He was a dangerous man, vanity and dramatic behaviour aside, but at the same time it seemed as though there was something else beneath that exterior, and it was that something else that was beginning to fascinate her so …

"He steals hearts and eats them," She whispered to herself, sinking down to perch on the side of the bed, lifting the pendant up before her eyes. It really was rather pretty. She admired it for a moment before standing and changing in preparation for sleep, and her hands hovered over the necklace for only a moment before she opted to keep it on. She needed something like a charm in her current situation, something she could keep with her at all times to feel safe and secure, and the pendant was perfect for such use. And so she slid beneath the blankets with the stone and chain tucked under her nightgown and cold against her skin. She closed her eyes tightly, turning onto her side; as she did so, the room grew dark as though it were attuned to the fact she wanted to sleep. Concentrating on taking deep, even breaths, she tried to clear her mind of the doubts and fears that swirled around in it and focus on nothing but calm.

Sweet dreams, Howl had said, but somehow she didn't think she would find them.

**.X.**


	5. Chapter 5

**.X.**

Over the next couple of days Sophie settled into a routine, rising early, bathing, preparing breakfast and then moving onto whatever work had to be done. She saw nothing of Howl for three days, which was fine as far as she was concerned; the wizard unnerved, frightened and confused her. She contemplated several times the wisdom in accepting the pendant from him, and finally decided that when next she saw him she would return it. It wasn't a matter of not liking it—it was a matter of accepting a gift from someone who had, she felt, coerced her into her current position. Rather than tell her outright that she was in his debt when first he'd come to her aid, he'd chosen to hide the truth from her until he came for her at the hat shop. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became, and she attacked the chores around the house with renewed vigour. The sooner she was out from beneath this roof, she mused darkly, the better.

With Howl's absence, it seemed as though Calcifer became more cheerful and open, not hesitating to heat water if Sophie needed it and even upon occasion breaking into song. Markl was the same as he ever was; helpful, talkative at times, and completely secretive about the lady who had his affections, despite Calcifer's constant badgering. The camaraderie she shared with the two of them was almost enough to erase the foreboding from her mind from earlier, but then upon occasion she began to notice Calcifer staring sombrely at the pendant hanging round her neck, and all her worries came rushing back. Several times she asked the fire demon what was wrong, but he never answered her outright, looking away or shifting the wood that burned around him in an evasive manoeuvre. Sophie, frustrated by his lack of forthrightness, would then return to whatever it was she had been doing, and so things would continue.

With the house clean, Sophie turned her attention to anything else that was in need of doing—which seemed to be a lot. At Sophie's offer to mend any clothing that might need it, Markl ran upstairs and returned with a rather intimidating armload of clothes that were badly in need of repair. When she wasn't working on those Sophie cleaned the windows, some of them so grimy it took more than one bucket of water to penetrate the dirt. She also swept the large hearth free of what seemed to be many years worth of ashes, carefully moving Calcifer about as she did so. When she was done she piled wood to one side and within reach of the grate so that the fire demon could sustain his flames on his own. The other side of the grate became the designated area for the cooking fire; Sophie had a feeling she endeared herself more to the demon by not forcing him to cook for her.

Quite frequently during the day the door would be pounded upon, and if Markl where present he would answer it. The visitors were customers of Howl, Sophie learned, who was in fact aliased as two separate wizards, Pendragon and Jenkins. When somebody knocked, the fire demon would call out the name of the portal being knocked upon—Porthaven or Kingsbury—and Markl would then turn the dial to the appropriate color before answering it. The customers came for all manners of things—potions, salves, good luck charms, and even mild curses. Sophie watched with undisguised curiosity as Markl would rush about, getting ingredients together and creating these items before delivering them to the people waiting at the door. He was paid handsomely for most of them, she noted, and after the customers had gone he deposited the coins and folded bills into a nondescript black jar sitting on a shelf near the window. When people knocked upon the door while Markl was away, Calcifer told her simply to ignore it, and so she did. When the apprentice went out during the day into the cities, it was to do errands for Howl, or so she understood; when he went out in the evening to Porthaven, however, she knew he was off to visit his lady friend.

On the sixth day since her arrival, Sophie came downstairs early in the morning to find Howl bent over a book laid open on the table. He didn't glance up as Sophie made her way over to the hearth, muttering to himself while skimming over the book's small text with his index finger. As she neared, Calcifer asked loudly, "Sophie, could I trouble you to hand me some wood?"

She knew the biting sarcasm in the fire demon's tone was meant for Howl, who was at the moment quite oblivious to both of them. She did as she was asked, taking up an armful of logs and piling them close to Calcifer. He thanked her shortly, all the while glaring in the wizard's direction. Sophie, made uneasy by Howl's presence this early in the morning, set about the ritual she had followed for the past few days and began to prepare breakfast. As she rummaged through the cupboards and shelves that held the food she couldn't help but glance erstwhile at the wizard, wondering why on earth he had risen with the sun; as Calcifer had said when first she'd arrived, Howl was rather fond of sleeping until noon or later. This day he was looking particularly resplendent in a patterned shirt of grey and green—the same green as his eyes. Grey breeches tucked into tall, polished black boots with a riding heel, and over it all he wore a dark, ankle length cloak made of heavy silk which clasped at the throat with a small silver chain. It took several more glances before Sophie realized that his hair had changed again, and that it had changed drastically; it had been shorn to hang just above his shoulders in even lengths with a thick fringe of bangs falling across his brow. What caught her attention, however, was the color, for even in the dim light of dawn filtering in from the window she could tell it was brilliantly, violently red. Turning her attention back to the task at hand, she shook her head—who knew a man could be so vain?

She built the cooking fire up while Calcifer watched; he extended one limb and helped ignite the tinder Sophie had gathered. When the flames were steady and large enough to cook Sophie laid the pan flat and proceeded to add strips of bacon and eggs to the sizzling iron. As she tossed the shells of the last egg to Calcifer for consumption, Howl spoke up from behind her, "Would you mind, Sophie dear, making some for me as well?"

"I am." she replied, looking over her shoulder to find that the wizard hadn't removed his attention from the large book. While both Calcifer and Markl had told her that the wizard never ate breakfast, she had figured that because Howl was awake she might as well cook enough for him for propriety's sake. Anything left over could be fed to Calcifer. Silence descended, broken only by the sizzling of the grease in the frying pan and the occasional sound of pages turning as Howl rifled through the tome. Markl appeared not long before the food was finished, as though drawn forth from his slumber by the aroma. He, like Sophie, cast a confused glance at the wizard who was not only awake before the sun had reached its zenith, but clothed and coherent as well. When everything was ready she and Markl took their share of the food and took seats at the table; Howl pulled his attention from the book, closed it, and went off to get his own portion. He returned and sat down with while nibbling on a piece of bacon held between his thumb and forefinger, wearing a pensive expression. After a moment he sighed, a great, deep exhale of air obviously meant to command attention. Sophie chose to ignore him, refusing to lift her gaze from the plate before her. Markl, however, asked after swallowing his mouthful of food, "Is there something wrong, Master Howl?"

There was an overly long pause as the wizard finished eating his strip of bacon. When he spoke, his tone was serious in a manner that made Sophie think that perhaps he was putting on an act. "Yes, in fact," he said, nodding; the stones hanging from his ears glinted in Calcifer's light with the movement. "You see, I do believe I'm going to be summoned by the king soon."

When he didn't elaborate, Sophie looked up from her food. If he was expecting Markl to get the gist of what he hadn't said he was going to be disappointed, for his apprentice was staring at him blankly. After huffing another great sigh, Howl went on. "I don't want to be summoned by the king, Markl. If I am, it means I'll have to go into service, and that would not be a good thing—don't you agree?"

There was an intonation to his words that brought a sudden look of comprehension to Markl's face. The boy nodded. "I see, Master. So what will you do? You can't refuse to see the king …"

"No," Howl said, swirling the eggs on his plate around with his fork. "But if I can't be found, then I can't be summoned."

"A vanishing spell?"

The wizard shook his head. "No, nothing as trite as that. More of a misdirection charm, really. Anyone looking for me—us—would keep finding themselves in odd places like an outhouse or a tool shed. It's really rather simple to do, except …" he trailed off, dropped his fork, and leaned in close to Markl. "It requires components I don't have and can only be found in certain places."

Markl's expression clearly indicated he didn't like where this was going; he asked with a heavy, expectant sigh, "Where do I need to go?"

"That's my boy!" Howl said brightly, slapping the apprentice on the back. "Not far at all. Porthaven. To Mistress Thora's."

"Mistress Thora!" The apprentice yelped. "Howl, she'll recognize me and then she'll kill me!"

The wizard had stood and moved away from the table, taking his half-full plate and scraping the remaining food into Calcifer's eager mouth. As he did so he said over his shoulder, "Not if you wear the cloak, she won't. Besides, the last time she saw you you were just a boy."

"That was last year. I haven't changed that much."

"Hence the need for the cloak." Depositing his dish in the sink, Howl turned to face his apprentice with his hands on his hips. "Really, Markl, it's not like I'm asking you to venture into a dragon's den."

"It's exactly like that, and you know it." This came from Calcifer, who licked up small, wayward pieces of Howl's breakfast with a tongue of flickering blue flame.

Howl made an exasperated sound, and Sophie chose that moment to jump into the conversation. "Who is Mistress Thora, and why is she comparable to a dragon?"

"She's not that bad—" Howl began, but the fire demon interrupted him.

"She's a woman that Howl pursued for the better part of last year. And when finally he won her heart, he up and left her like he's done with all the others. The thing is, Mistress Thora didn't react like all the others. She's a herbalist, and an adept one at that, and she has an amazing temper. And so for revenge against Howl—"

"She poisoned me!" The wizard exclaimed, striking a pose that screamed of righteous indignation. "That … _woman_ … sent me a cake with poison baked into it!"

"Why," Sophie asked slowly, "would you eat something sent to you by a woman whose heart you broke?"

Howl scowled at her and the obvious disapproval dripping from her words. "I thought perhaps it was a peace offering."

Calcifer snorted. "You're lucky it wasn't deadly poison."

Howl made a face, and Markl told Sophie, "He was sick for three weeks after he ate it. And he literally turned green, too. He could only eat broth and drink water and he couldn't move around without getting really sick."

"Imagine, if you will," the fire demon said to her, "A bedridden Howl, feeling horrible and unable to cure himself, cooped up in this house for twenty one _long_ days …"

"I wasn't that bad." Howl said defensively, while at the same time Markl whispered to Sophie, "It was _awful!_"

"That will be quite enough out of the two of you, thank you kindly!" The wizard said loudly, glaring at first one and then the other. "May we get back to the subject at hand? As I was saying, the components I need are rather exotic and Thora's shop is the only that carries them in this kingdom. You will go, and you will wear the cloak, and things will go smoothly."

Markl said glumly, "Yes, Master Howl."

"Why don't you go yourself?" Sophie asked, feeling sorry for Markl because of the dejectedness he was exuding.

"Oh, now there's a question!" Calcifer crowed; the wizard narrowed his eyes and graced the fire demon with a very icy stare. After a moment he turned to Sophie and said rather stiffly, "Because if I were to go in person, Thora would most assuredly and happily refuse to give me what I needed."

Sophie opened her mouth again to state that perhaps that was exactly what he deserved; Howl smoothly interrupted, waving a dismissive hand in the air. "As well, I have an appointment to be kept today of which I am already in danger of being late attending. It's a matter of the utmost importance."

"Which is why you're as flashy as a peacock today?" Calcifer asked.

Howl flashed the fire demon an irritated glance. "Yes. It never hurts to make a good impression." He produced from an inner pocket a slip of paper—his component list—and handed it to Markl, who looked it over and heaved a resigned sigh before nodding. The wizard then brushed past them all and strode over to pick up the guitar before moving to the stairs. Halfway down them he turned around with a sudden wide smile. "I say, Sophie, why don't you accompany Markl? Surely you're sick of being inside this house already, and a bit of fresh air will do you well, don't you think?"

Despite herself, Sophie found this to be an ideal suggestion; she was in fact sick of the confines of the house. She wondered if there was some ulterior reason behind it, but was distracted from that line of thought by Howl's next words. "Don't go out in those old rags, though. Look in your room—I think the yellow one will look especially nice on you." And with that he carried himself down the rest of the stairs, swivelled the dial to black, and promptly left the house.

Sophie, torn between indignation over his rather unfair assessment of her current wardrobe and curiosity about what he'd meant about yellow, stared after him for a moment before making a rude noise and gathering up the dishes and carrying them to the sink. Behind her Calcifer said, "And you've only been here a week. He gets even more irritating with time."

She made a noise that was half laugh and half sigh before turning to Markl. "Well? Would you mind some company?"

"No." The apprentice said quickly. "I want you to come. Maybe if you're there Thora won't hurt me." He slid off the chair and made his way to the stairs. "I'm just going to change, Sophie, and then I'll be right back."

"No hurry," she sighed, following him. "It seems I'm to change as well."

**.X.**

_**Author's Note: **This chapter was supposed to be longer, but every time I sit down to try and finish it I get interrupted, which is why I decided to post this part and work on the rest whenever I have time._

_As well, thank you for all your support! I really appreciate it, and it makes writing this that much more enjoyable. _


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